


A Glorious Thing To Be

by primeideal



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mock Trial, Pirates, Song Lyrics, Yuletide 2015, Yuletide Treat, post-Season 1, semaphore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galavant and Richard learn how pirates work hard and play hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glorious Thing To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perdiccas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/gifts).



> Huge thanks to drayton for tireless help with editing. Any remaining scansion weirdness is entirely my fault.
> 
> Dear perdiccas, I tried to be lighthearted and stick to the tone of the show, however, in one extremely bizarre way I did feel compelled to draw on more RL anachronistic pirate canon than faux-1200s setting; I hope it paid off.

It had been another long day at sea. Galavant was adjusting to taking his shifts among the pirate crew, swabbing the deck and helping out in the galley. King Richard had not fared so well and had yet to find his sea legs. When not glumly retching over the edge of the boat, he spent his time poking at flowerpots, weeding the pirates' seaborne gardens.

“Right, me hearties,” said the Pirate King. “This isolationist lark is a laugh and all, livin' off the fat of the land—”

“The _sea_ , cap'n!” hissed the first mate.

“Right, that, but I reckon we need to diversify our assets. So tomorrow, the next time a ship of the royal fleet comes into range, I want us to be ready to give them what for. Savvy?”

“Aye aye, cap'n!”

“I...don't know how I feel about this,” admitted Richard. “Do I have to help?”

“Yes!” said the first mate. “Togetherness, innit?”

“I don't want to get _sick_ on them. It's one thing to be all—blustery and pirate-y, but some things are just too humiliating.”

“Oh, there are plenty of ways you can help out. Maybe you can be in charge of counting up our earnings when all is said and done?”

“Maybe,” Richard said.

But Galavant pulled him aside. “I say, Your Highness, there's no shame in not wanting to attack your royal privateers.”

“What? No! I'm not afraid.”

“It'd only be natural—”

“Someone else is in charge now. Probably Kingsley or Madalena. They're not _my_ fleet anymore.”

“All the same. It'd be—quite heroic of you to have changed your warmongering ways, actually.”

“What's the difference? While we're aboard the pirate ship, we behave like pirates, and that means attacking when they say attack.”

“I think we might be able to find a way out. If nothing else, use this as an opportunity to figure out who sits on the throne.”

“Speaking of sitting on the throne...” Richard muttered, dashing off for his bedchambers.

The next morning dawned with a new routine of chores to accomplish. Gone were the plants and dessert trays from the deck; instead, a group of pirates made ready to lower their longboat to the ocean.

“Right, me buckoes,” said the Pirate King. “Grappling hooks at the ready?”

“Aye aye!” echoed the pirates.

“Richard will remain here,” said Galavant. “I'll go ahead with the others. But don't worry, I won't be—needlessly violent.”

“There shouldn't be any need of that!” chortled the Pirate King, while Richard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right then, down you go!”

Galavant and the pirates rowed in time to the beat of a sea shanty. Below decks, something that he could only assume were their cutlasses was sliding backwards and clanking. All they held were grappling hooks, ready to accost the royal ship that drew near.

As they grew closer, Galavant tried to recognize the design. He thought it might once have been a Valencian ship, before falling under the sway of Richard's navy. Of course, that didn't excuse its new inhabitants being taken by force, but all the same...

“Right, mateys,” said the first mate. “Don't let them get away. One, two, three!”

With a will, Galavant and the pirates all sent their grappling hooks hurtling at the other ship. The ropes fell short of the mark, and as they reeled them in to try again, the Valencian ship hoisted its sails and began making a quick escape. The pirates turned back to the oars of the longboat, but those were not nearly fast enough to catch up, and soon it was back to long-range attempts at boarding with grappling hooks. One and all, these didn't make it, and soon the pirates found themselves helplessly staring at the retreating vessel.

“Ah well,” said the first mate. “Back to plan B!”

“What's plan B?” Galavant asked, but since it hadn't involved attacking the navy he was pretty sure Richard was going to prefer whatever it was to plan A.

“You'll see. For now, get to rowing.”

The shanties on the return trip were a little more subdued, and the tired pirates needed help from those still aboard the main ship to hoist their longboat onboard. “Don't give up,” said the Pirate King, “it was a good try. And they'll have to take notice once we give them a show of what's in here.” He indicated a large iron chest.

“Is—is that where you keep your archery equipment?” Richard stammered.

“Archery? Don't be daft, me lad, open it up and have a look!”

Richard opened the chest, revealing a slew of colorful pieces of fabric. “Ooh! Are these costumes?”

“I think they're a little smaller,” said Galavant, taking one out. “A flag?”

“That's right! A flag!” said the Pirate King. And then, he began to sing.

“String it up! String up every banner!  
String it up, a flag's the proper manner  
Of getting the attentions  
Of other sailors on the sea  
Whosoever they may be  
We'll show them our intentions!”

Richard seemed disturbed. He turned to the Pirate King, singing his horrified response.

“Will you mask your true colors behind these reds and yellows  
Pretending they're your fellows  
Before a stealth attack?  
Is all this silly semaphore a waste of time and knotting  
As you resume your pirate trickery, deceit, and plotting  
To stab them in the back?”

The Pirate King gathered together a pile of flags and thrust them into Richard's arms.

“This here's the proper signal to show across the water!  
We do not plan a slaughter  
But we'll spare no expense  
In guaranteeing them the freshest, most exclusive deal  
On all desserts we've left in stock. It really is a steal!  
To skip it would be dense!”

Richard paused. “This is really just about your organic dessert line!”

“Of course!” explained the Pirate King. “They go bad if we leave them out too long, so we need to sell them whenever we can. We had too many in stock, and, well, it's time those frigates know it.”

“So you're going to attack people into buying from you?” Richard asked dubiously.

“Don't think of it as an attack, ” said the Pirate King. “Think of it as an aggressive sales pitch. With...pitch. Held in reserves. ”

“All right, then! I think I can do it!” Taking the flags, Richard began climbing towards the crow's nest, as the crew cheered him on.

“Now some of these flags see usage across the main  
They couldn't be more plain  
But other flags, by golly,  
Are for pirates, me hearties, and for pirates alone!  
There's no flag as glad as the skull and crossbones,  
Our Roger, so very Jolly.

When pirates choose to wave the red  
We won't stop till we've left you dead.  
When pirates fly the mighty black  
We might curtail our next attack.  
When pirates fly chartreuse and green  
A cheap sweet treat will soon be seen.  
If a red and purple flag we sport  
Then we protest your tax or tort  
While serving our all-natural torte!”

“I did it!” Richard called. “I'm just...a little dizzy up here...”

“Brilliant!” said Galavant. “Well done.”

“Yes, yes,” squinted the Pirate King. “Only, there's just one thing.”

“What?”

“You've put them up backwards. Instead of communicating 'please take advantage of our exclusive dessert bargains,' it says 'our vessel requires a monk.'”

“Better work fast,” said Galavant, “before _they_ start singing, too.”

“I'm in no mood to confess my misdeeds, thanks,” said Richard, beginning to nervously scurry down the flagpole, collecting the flags along the way.

Once again, the pirates tried to lend him moral support.

“String it up, string up every banner!  
String it up, a flag's the proper manner  
Of communicating everything from 'coral, three o'clock'  
To 'need a jester if you can,'  
'Valencia's fallen, what's the plan?'  
'Tax imports on the dock!'”

“Is that good enough?” said Richard, who'd by that time descended and reclimbed the pole.

“It'll do,” said the Pirate King, hailing the frigate. “We'll make a cabin boy out of you yet.”

Richard looked like he was about to be sick from the crow's nest.

As soon as it hit the water, a tiny boat that had been lowered from the frigate immediately rowed back to its side and started getting hoisted up again; presumably, a monk who'd been preparing to give aid to the pirate ship. Slowly, the two boats drew nearer. “Avast!” said the Pirate King. “Get ye below decks of the longboat, find the chow.”

Galavant and Richard clambered into the longboat, and sure enough, in place of cutlasses and booty were the carefully-wrapped desserts. By the time they had climbed out, the Pirate King was already discussing terms with the other ship. It turned out that pirates preferred booty in pieces of eight, but also accepted jewels, 'boat stuff,' and pieces of one-twenty-eight (Valencian binary was an advanced numerical system). The Pirate King wanted to sweeten the deal—literally and figuratively—by throwing in some confection of his own design that was intended to stay cold amid the harsh sea weather, but after the first mate pointed out that they had no way of ensuring that it wouldn't immediately melt, reluctantly gave in.

“I'd shake on it,” called the other captain, “but you're all the way over there. And you probably have a hook for a hand, or something.”

“I do not have a hook for a hand!” the Pirate King protested.

She squinted. “Well, prosthetic technology's come a long way; it's the thirteenth century, innit? I don't want to judge.”

“You don't need to shake on it, my word's good as gold.”

“Your gold's good as whatever sad little rock you bury it under: pirate gold depreciates like a—”

“That's enough,” said the first mate, “send your grappling hooks over, and we'll send ours to string up the dessert.”

“I’ve got this,” said Richard, who'd mercifully descended from the crow's nest. Twirling the grappling hook in his hand, he hurled it across at the other ship. The captain began tying it, just as Galavant secured the one she'd thrown. Then, the pirates and merchants could tie on their food and booty, respectively.

The Pirate King led a reprise:

“String it up, string up the booty!  
String it up, and do your pirate duty!  
Sometimes we raid corsairly  
And that's always a thrill.  
But just the same, it's still  
A pleasure to trade fairly!”

Once the merchants' chest had reached them, the Pirate King emptied its contents, counted them quickly, then unhooked the grappling hook and began pulling their own back. With a wave goodbye, the ships parted ways.

“I say,” said Richard, “we don't have any left, do we?”

“Not at the moment,” said the first mate. “We'll have to make some more to sell later. It takes a couple weeks. Feeling hungry?”

“Not at all,” he sighed. “But...someone _else_ should take down those flags.”

Galavant rolled his eyes. “I can take a hint.”

When he'd retrieved and stowed them, he approached the Pirate King. “What did the _other_ ship's flags mean?”

“Violet...gold...mauve...ochre...robin's-egg...they're loyal to the queen of this realm, and her henchman-in-chief.”

“Her _henchman_ in chief? So Kingsley is slain?”

“Who?”

“You don't know or care who's the head of state on a good day, do you?”

“On a good day, _I'm_ the head of my estate.”

“There's a point in that.” Richard heaved a sigh.

“Everything okay?” Galavant asked.

“I'm not sure. Their insignia suggests that Kingsley may have perished in our—absence, that our plans weren't enough. I don't know how to feel.”

“He's your brother. It must be complicated.”

“You miss your own companions, don't you?”

“Terribly. Every ludicrous invention—these storage devices for bizarre snacks!—I'm sure Sid could improve on. Every diplomatic negotiation, I wish Isabella were by our sides.”

“Well then! I suppose it's time to find out what these pirates do for fun around here!”

“I think we know...”

“We have an idea what they do on _land_. On the ocean, cap'n?” He turned, addressing the Pirate King. “When watering flowers and cooking desserts becomes a chore, what _else_ do pirates do to pass the time?”

“Well,” said the Pirate King, “mock trials are pretty fun!”

“Mock trials?”

“For piracy!”

“I don't understand...”

“Let me illustrate. Places, you scurvy dogs!” The pirates formed a cluster, with the first mate stepping up to the helm of the ship. Only Galavant and Richard stood dumbstruck, unsure where to go. “That'll do,” said the Pirate King. “Right, then...” He began to sing. Richard focused intently, unsure how much attention he really needed to pay to this particular pirate ritual, while Galavant only sighed.

“As prosecutor of this realm,  
Your Honor, at your rightful helm,  
Good people of the jury,  
I'll abjure both rage and fury,  
And just present the sorry tale.  
Before you stands, beyond the pale,  
A pirate in the flesh!”

He gestured at Galavant.

“He pillages and plunders loot  
Under whatever flag will suit.  
He grows his plants and hocks his wares  
Free as a parrot, without cares!  
To add to those misdeeds, methinks,  
Of rum and grog, he often drinks!  
So have off with his head!”

The first mate nodded. “How do you plead?”

“Er...I have indeed been aboard a pirate ship and spent time in their company, sir!” said Galavant. “Good company it is, too.”

“I think you're supposed to _lie_ ,” said Richard. “Matey.”

“Oh. Right. I'm guilty of nothing. I've done nothing wrong!”

“Well, you'll have to try harder than that to convince me!” the first mate demanded.

“Oh,” said Galavant. “Okay.

My days of mischief number zero.  
I'm nothing but an honest hero  
Who'd rather stay onshore, at port.  
There's a princess I would rather court.  
I'd like to fight beside my squire  
But I'm no perjurer or liar.  
Not guilty, is my plea!

There's nothing I need hide or fear  
I'll answer to each juror here  
Or any villain, anywhere!  
Scoundrels and tyrants ought take care  
For Galavant goes forth to save  
The day, not sneer at wind or wave.  
That's all there is from me!”

“You'll go forth when I say you can go forth,” said the first mate. “Jurors, what say you?”

The rest of the pirate crew huddled briefly for a few moments, then emerged with their verdict.

“He smells of grog like pirates reek  
And draws his Rs like a pirates speak.  
His legs are tough and strong and good  
But might as well be made of wood  
Both hands seem to be in fine fettle  
But might as well be made of metal.  
So that's good enough for us!

He knows his way around a ship  
And that's not a suspect we'll let slip  
We cannot leave him loose on decks  
To sail our warships into wrecks  
He's a threat to all our treasure  
So dispose of him at your leisure.  
Guilty!”

“Well, there you have it,” shrugged the first mate. “Now, what sentence should I pronounce?”

“You could have him walk the plank,” the Pirate King suggested.

“Don't be daft, I'm not a pirate! Only pirates suggest plank-walking.”

“Oh. Sorry. Forgot myself.”

“Proper subjects of kings and queens  
Have no time for splashy scenes.  
A hanging ought to do the trick;  
Not too nautical, but slick  
If executioners, I hope  
Can competently tie a rope.  
String him up, I say!”

There was a silence. “Or, we could...not do that thing,” Galavant suggested.

“You're the executioner,” the Pirate King hissed at Richard.

“Oh!” Richard blurted. “Sure, yeah, I can totally be a competent executioner. I've watched plenty. Um...

If you should pillage, loot, or rob  
I'm the man to do the job.  
Though it's a task I've never tried  
I think that I'm fit to be tied.  
Or should I say, fit to be tying—  
Though I deplore this silly dying.  
Bring it on!”

“Huzzah!” the pirate jury cheered. “Another excellent trial.”

“If we were on shore we'd have you walk the plank, about a foot down onto the grass,” explained the Pirate King. “But at sea, we don't do that part.”

“Er...thanks,” said Galavant.

“And that's it! You can be the judge next time.”

“Next time?”

“You have to branch out,” said Richard. “I know a whole bunch of capital crimes you can try people for! I mean...pretend to.”

“We're their guests,” said Galavant. “I'm fine sticking with their traditions. And thank you for having us.”

“Our pleasure,” said the first mate.

But Richard pulled Galavant aside. “Is that how they see the establishment, really? Some—dillweed on a throne?”

Galavant smiled, remembering the squires in Sid's hometown. “From their perspective, they have good reason to.”

“Well, when I get my kingdom back, perhaps I should be more clement.”

“That would be very wise of you, I think.”

“I mean, I'm scared of their cutlasses. It might be better to have them on our side, you know? They certainly _cook_ better than our navy.”

“They sing better, too,” said Galavant, and Richard smiled. It was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, apparently actual pirates really did pass the time by putting on mock trials of each other for piracy. http://www.thepirateking.com/bios/anstis_thomas.htm


End file.
